


Red Bottom Heels

by bittybittypowow



Category: Original Work
Genre: Cliche af, F/F, F/M, M/M, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), eventually, just wait, shiz gonna get dark tho, somewhat gay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-20
Updated: 2018-01-20
Packaged: 2019-03-07 04:01:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13426380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bittybittypowow/pseuds/bittybittypowow
Summary: Mini skirts, chokers, and implants for the lucky ones. The core essentials for a hot girl. Except like the Powerpuff Girls, except with double Ds and premarital sex. Like in all movies they ruled the school with an iron fist and plastic heels, but unlike the movies, you had to be a genius to run the hormone infested ecosystem that is high school. Specifically Labsmith High School. So why are some chicks with 140 IQs clad in plaid skirts running a high school mafia so important?Glad you asked.





	Red Bottom Heels

I popped my gum. A lot. And this time was no exception; actually, I think today might have broken 2 world records. One for me blowing 58 bubbles in a minute and one for Jenni being the universe’s most mythical bitch.  
“Jenni!”  
I knew I was whining, but I was too annoyed to care.  
“Can’t you see I am trying to fix this goddamn mess that you let me walk out the house with!”  
She stood tapping her Versace covered foot and staring at her impeccable appearance in the spit-stained bathroom mirror.  
“You look fine.”  
Jenni only groaned in response like she always does. She had a soft spot for Carrie just because she beelined her way to Jenni first. I ignored my thoughts because I needed to get the fuck out of this bathroom before I had to sign a lease. It was fogged with the smoke that floated out of Carrie’s cigarette and only one of the stalls were occupiable. Well, technically 3, but that was only if you were a blind, deaf, cripple, missing a nose that somehow figured out how to use a toilet.  
“You heard Carrie. You look good.”  
“I don’t need to look ‘good’. I need to look fantastically fuckable.”  
Jenni gave me her Slut Glare™ while applying her 18th layer of lipstick. Carrie took another drag on her cigarette while deadpanning once again.  
“Is this for that Simon kid? When will you understand that he’s gay?”  
I nodded in agreement while Carrie’s attempt at reason with Jenni somewhat got her moving. She furiously started cramming her paints into her bag.  
“I know he’s gay, you candy-assed skanks. But I need to get a blue-eyed polo wearing boy next to me.”  
She finally finished getting her stuff together and started towards the door.   
“Whether or not he’s gay doesn’t matter. We can make a deal or he can test his sexual confusion.” She said over her shoulder letting out one of her Harvard laughs.  
Anybody with a brain hated her, but God, how I wanted to be her.  
***  
Our shoes clicked in unison down the yellow and white tiled floors of Hall A, or, “Satan’s Labyrinth”. Ms. Garrison prowled around the swarm of teenagers on their way to lunch like a crack-whore looking for some dust. Honestly, she might have been so. Carrie moved my thoughts from my possibly-narcotic teacher to a definitely-narcotic student.  
“His name’s Basher, he likes Futurama, and you’re meeting him after class behind the Chili’s.”  
“Carrie, I am not getting chlamydia for some weed.”  
She rolled her eyes.  
“Ugh, no. I have the cash in my backpack. Jeremy got into some bad water with the Yester High kids and he needs to take out a loan from us. Just get the pot”  
Our regular dealer (i.e. Jeremy), was out on suspension for giving the staff pot brownies, so I had to negotiate with someone who looked even more bummy than him. I took a look at “Basher” again. He had a typical ‘stoner’ look to him which was probably why the teachers always searched his locker first. I knew his face and homeless jeans all the well but never bothered to memorize his name.  
“Are we reselling, then?”  
“Yeah. Flemming Spring as per usual.”  
Reselling basic weed was all too easy when we had to deal with the Phlegm Springs kids. Most of them were rich church freaks who were dying to get their hands on anything. Since they knew nothing about nothing, we could sell them 1 gram for $100.  
“Remember, the more you smile, the better the quality!” Jenni said with an unironic sing-song quality in her voice while we approached the doors of the cafeteria.  
“Anyways, we’re doing handouts for the party at lunch.”  
Jenni pulled open the door and we walked over and claimed our regular table which was for some reason, infested with not us. Quite the fucking opposite.  
“You can’t just walk over and d-declare an entire table as yours anymore, Jenni!”  
My jaw dropped. Mary Gerald, mathlete, and head of the chess club. There’s nothing wrong with getting good grades, but everything is wrong with her. Each of us had shot down her and her little pansy-assed posse silent protest. This was the last straw.  
“Who in the hell do y---”  
I started as Jenni cut me off. I don’t know who I was more pissed at.  
“Shut up, Ashlie.”  
Jenni took a few steps closer to the circle of chicken-shit we somehow considered people.  
“How far is your head up your ass? Why don’t you stay in your own area like you’re supposed to? C’mon, I’m being nice, Mary.”  
Mary let out a little puff of anger and turned around and started stomping away.   
That was until she stomped towards us with a Gatorade locked and loaded.


End file.
